Traitor revised
by apocalypse09
Summary: Same story with minor revisions. What would have happened if Alanna had given up and joined forced with Roger. Please read the author's note.


Traitor (revised)

"I need you too much to kill you now, Lady Knight. Did you think I would end it without you? Come my Lioness, and together, we will be unstoppable. With you at my side, there is nothing I won't be able to accomplish. We will rule this land, make Tortall the great and prosperous nation it's destined to be!"

I felt sick to my stomach. "Roger! Why in the world would I join forces with you? I'd rather you lock me in the dungeon until I die!"

Roger chuckled. "No, my dear, you will join me. You don't have any choice in the matter. The goddess has deserted you. Your prince has deserted you. You are all alone now. "

"How-how did you know about Jon- the Goddess- how did-that's impossible!" I cry. This couldn't be happening. I took a step back into the guard position and raised Lightning's glinting blade in front of me.

Roger ignored my outcry. "Was Thom ever any good at keeping secretes as a boy? No, I didn't think so. It is no matter." He shrugged. "Come now Alanna. No more of this nonsense. Lioness, you know you want this. You deserve this. How much longer can you lay down your life in the service of others? What about what _you_ want?"

It took all of my willpower not to clap my hands over my ears. He was wrong. I would never join him.

Never ever.

* * *

I sit on my throne, scrutinizing the wrinkled man who bows down before me.

"Away," I order with a wave of my hand. Two guards step up, each grabbing one of the man's thin arms.

"No! Please! Don't do this to me! No! Please!" He shrieks as they drag him away.

A trumpet sounds in the distance.

"All rise, for the entrance of his highness, King Roger VI," a guard calls out.

The room fills with the shuffles of everyone's feet as they scramble to get up.

"Milord," I rise and curtsy.

King Roger VI sits beside me, laying his over mine on the engraved armrest of the iron throne.

* * *

A nest of chirping birds is perched on a tree branch outside of my window. I watch, fascinated as one baby bird hops out of the nest. Teetering close to the edge of the branch, the small animal begins to flap its awkward wings. Jumping into the air, it lifts up, its wings a blur as it tries desperately to gain altitude. My heart fills with unfamiliar hope, as I will the bird to stay alive. It remains aloft for several moments, but then, its immature wings give and the baby bird hurtles towards the ground with a dull thud. The air resounds with the mournful cries of the baby's parents. I shrug. What hope did it have, anyway?

* * *

Sitting at my dresser, I run a comb through my thinned gray hair. At age fifty-three, my mane has little remnants of its original fiery shade. I fix my dull purple eyes on the image in the mirror. Translucent skin is papery thing with purple bruising beneath the eyes. Lines have formed around the mouth, a sign of continuously frowning. Spidery veins creep along the temple. I used to be beautiful. I used to be one of the best knights in the entire realm. Yet, now, there are no more knights. There is no need. There is nothing left in Tortall worth protecting.

* * *

I travel down the cold stone steps, into the dungeon. There are only a couple of prisoners here. Everybody else is hanged. I walk in step behind Roger as he leads me through the twisting, creaking, rotting corridors of the once beautiful castle. He stops at a door, and peeks into the metal bars of the cell.

"Hello, cousin." His voice holds a certain amount of venomous pleasure to it as he looks upon what once used to be the king of Tortall. The old man looks up, but does not see. He turns away. Slowly, over the course of twenty-one years, he has wasted away. He looks to be a man of eighty years, when he has yet to reach sixty.

Walking into the cell, Roger bends down, moving his mouth beside Jon's ear.

"And so your fate is finally decided cousin.

Jonathan's look is one of relief. For over thirty years, Roger has made it a ritual to come down and visit his cousin. Every time, he tortures and taunts Jon, a broken, mangled man.

Jonathan, after so long in being in a cell, would just be happy to die. He looks over at me.

I, the once beautiful Lioness, am as worn away as he is. He catches my eyes and holds it, willing me not to look away. He still has that power over me. He holds my gaze for several moments. In those several moments, he relives his past with me: the black city, the sweating sickness, the night of my seventeenth birthday, the argument in the desert, and the day of his coronation. These memories have his desired effect on me: unrest. He has never been able to communicate with me like that before. I walk away, a small trickle of tears streaking down my cheeks.

* * *

I take slow bites of my meal. I had grown used to the tastelessness of the food, but after seeing Jon, my mouth hungers for more. I look over to Roger, who sits across from me. He is all I have, and yet, I have nothing at all.

* * *

Roger is asleep. I sneak away back into the dungeons. I have never done this before. I walk up to Jon's cell.

"Jon?" The name is so unused; it tastes awkward in my mouth. Yet, just saying it makes shivers go up my back. It has been many years since I have felt any emotion other than anger. He turns and looks at me. Wordlessly, he turns and looks back around.

I push open the cell door and enter. I crouch in the straw that serves as his bedding.

"Jon?"

He looks at me again.

"Jon, please talk to me." My voice is weak and quivering.

"What's there to say? I shall die soon. Thank Mithros," he adds quickly. Even in a hoarse whisper, his voice still makes my palms tingle.

"Alanna?" He croaks. "What happened?"

"I don't know."

"You betrayed us. You betrayed us all. You're a traitor."

I don't say anything.

"But I still love you- if I haven't forgotten what love is." I look up at this. "Do you still remember what love is?"

I don't respond.

"Think of me, think of George, and think of Liam. We loved you. Even after what youhad done. Even if after you let them die. They still loved you. As do I." Having said this, he turns away again.

I nod. "Good night," I whisper as I get up and leave.

* * *

Roger and I come again the next day to visit Jon. Roger is oblivious to my late night visit. Good. He doesn't need to know.

Entering the cell, Roger bends down and whispers something for Jon's ears only. I look away. Another burden has been placed upon me. I cannot do this. I know I can no longer do what is asked of me. I did it for Liam, George, even Faithful, my beloved cat. I cannot do it to him. I just cannot.

Roger straightens up, brushing himself off. "Come, my dearest," and he walks away.

I give one last meaningful glance at Jon, before I too get up and go.

"What is to become of hims?" I ask as we make our way up the winding stone steps.

"Beheaded."

I get that sick feeling in my stomach I'm so used to.

* * *

"I die tomorrow," he tells me indifferently. He acts as if it is not his life that is about to be taken away. "'Lanna?" I look at him. "Promise that it won't be you whom wields the sword."

I say nothing.

"Promise me! I know how Roger's mind works. I know it will be you. Just promise me you will say no. I can die, but not by your hand. Please! The force in his voice makes me turn away. Roger will make me do it. Just as me made me do it before for everyone else.

"Don't do it Alanna. In the name of the Dark God, promise it will not be you."

I nod. I do my best to stay resolute. "I promise."

* * *

At dawn, I wake up, and dress a bit more formal than usual. Roger raises a brow, but says nothing, thankfully. I used to say "Thank Mithros", or "Thank the mother". I can't say that any more. I have no faith left.

The beheading will occur in a platform in the town square. About twenty-two or twenty-three people have shown up to watch. They are curious to see what has become of the old king, he who is spoken of by the elders, in hushed in frightened voices.

Jon is brought foreword with a piece of cloth tied about his head. He is thrown onto the executioner's block as the cloth is removed. He immediately catches my eye and smiles. It is a faint smile, one that I alone could catch.

Roger hands me a sword. "Presume," he orders. I walk up to Jon, sword in hand.

"Don't do it Alanna. Please don't. You know what you said. Just drop it. Run. The mother will protect you." He murmurs, the sweat glistening on his brow. Briefly I consider his proposal.

"What's the matter? Go on," Roger snaps.

I look at Jon. He stares at me, openmouthed. What little hope he had left fled away. Jon looks like the little bird that tried to fly but fell so far. I whisper, "I'm sorry."

I was once a lover, knight and friend. Now, I am queen, a wife, and a sufferer.

I am a traitor.

**A/N: **Wow, how long has it been since I've written anything? A conversation with a friend made me want to revisit some of my old works on fanfiction. This was one of my favorites at the time when I was still active on the site. The revisions are mainly mechanical. I'm too attached to this piece to change anything major. For those of you who have read the original as well, which one do you like better? The changes are probably too small to notice unless you hold the two next to one another. But like I said, I'm too attached to do anything major. That's a bad thing. An author should never become attached to their work. I'll try to revise some of my other stuff eventually too. Reviews are appreciated, and as always, the favor will be returned.


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